


Hetagames: Sparrow

by PretzelBitz



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:00:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23815000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PretzelBitz/pseuds/PretzelBitz
Summary: Each year, two citizens from each district of Panem are chosen to fight in the Hunger Games. The unlucky souls from district 11?Ludwig Beilshmidt and Feliciano Vargas
Relationships: America/Japan (Hetalia), Austria/Hungary (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

Quiet breaths were further silenced by the snowy air, the chilled atmosphere soaking up all sound. One small shift caused a loud crunch in the snow covered ground. The man flinched and whipped his head around, gloved hands clutching a choppily made bow. His other hovered over a clump of arrows tied to his belt. Eyes like coal glared into the treeline, watching. Waiting.  


The loud snap of a tree branch sent an arrow whizzing through the air. The man's breath was now heavy and labored as he whirled around, long braid following and hitting his side. He glared furiously into the mass of dark trees. He let loose another arrow, this time his aim shaky and off center.  


"Show yourself, demon! Face me!" His accented voice echoed in the clearing but garnered no response. Then, a noise.  


A four note whistle rang from the trees. The peaceful sound of a flute chilled the air and struck an icy blade of fear into the braided man's heart. Just as he raised his bow, a flash of red gleamed in the shadows.  
A blade whizzed through the air, lodging itself in the man's forehead-

Ludwig swiveled his head as his brother shot straight up in bed, his pale face shining with sweat. Gilbert blinked his strikingly scarlet eyes and looked around, relaxing upon seeing his tall brother in the familiar, luxurious home.  


Ludwig hummed and tossed the albino a pearly white button up from the doorway of Gilbert's doorway. "Glad to see you awake, I thought I'd need to drag you there myself," his tone was scolding but not mean. Rather, it was laced with a nervous and somber energy. Gilbert let out his cackle of a laugh.  


"Don't stress, Luddy! It'll all be fine." Gilbert rolled out of bed, still clutching the freshly pressed shirt. Ludwig stayed silent. A bead of sweat rolled down his face upon seeing the ugly scars ripping across his brother's shoulder and down his spine.  


His blue eyes stared out the large room. He stared at the other citizens walking past, all in unusually formal, pastel dress. His thoughts wandered back to Gilbert's scars. Back to the broadcasting he watched a year ago.  


It was selfish, it really was. But Ludwig Beilshmidt was praying he wouldn't be chosen for the Hunger Games.


	2. The Reaping

"Ludwig Beilshmidt!"  
Ludwig immediately felt all the eyes in the large crowd turn to him as his name was called with an undertone of excitement. He couldn't hear their murmurs through the static in his ears. Any coherent thought left him, like he'd just woken up from a deep sleep.  


"...est… W...st… West!"  


Ludwig jumped and swallowed the lump in his throat. He chanced a glance down at Gilbert and instantly regretted it; His brother's already pale face had gone an ashy white, his glazed over with fear. The hand clutching his sleeve was trembling.  
The blonde straightened up and stepped out of the crowd, glare hardening at the Peacekeeper waiting for him at the end of the row. His dress shirt was still held tight in Gilbert's grip. Ludwig turned to him, hand hovered above his brothers. Finally the taller man pryed Gilbert's fingers from the cloth, holding it in his own. Gilbert's palm was clammy, his fingers shaking.  


"I'll see you on the train, East."  


Gilbert blinked his red eyes. The film of terror left them as he let out a breath. Nodding, Gilbert squeezed his brother's hand.  


"Ja. Ja, I'll see you there, West."  
Ludwig blinked and he was on the reaping stage, standing between one large glass bowl and the flamboyantly dressed announcer. Their vibrant red outfit was like a splash of blood against the washed out color of the stage and capital building and city square.  


The color reminded him of his brother's eyes, though instead of comfort it filled his chest with contempt and fear and other feelings he couldn't place. None good.  


"Well, well… this is exciting isn't it! If I'm not mistaken you are the brother of district elevens past winner! What a legacy!" The announcer's voice was grating and disgustingly preppy. Ludwig only nodded slowly, hardly the desired reaction.  


"Well, Mr. Beilshmidt, let's hope you can live up to your brother's performance!"  


The man remained silent.  


The announcer moved to the other side of the stage, running their finger around the rim of the large glass bowl. With his head now mostly cleared, Ludwig looked over the crowd. Who would stand up here with him?  


Maybe the flower shop worker from down the street. Maybe the frail owner of the apple orchard his brother insists on visiting. Maybe one of the twelve year olds who passed his street and stared at the grand victory homes on their way to school just days prior. 

"Feliciano Vargas!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A tiny shriek had the surrounding men and women turn to Feliciano. The small man had pressed his hands to his mouth immediately after, though it couldn't fully muffle his almost pained whimpers. Feliciano jolted as he felt two strong arms wrap around him. His grandfather pressed the small man against his chest, calloused fingers digging into Feliciano's shoulders, though he didn't register the pain.  


Hearing his grandfather's watery cries and prayers finally pushed Feliciano to tears, letting them soak Romulus's shirt; through the haze could smell olives and tomatoes and pasta on Romulus. He felt another warm hand slide into his own from behind his grandfather's back. He didn't need to open his eyes to register his youngest brother clinging to him. The comforting smell and warm hand clutching his own only made him cry harder, as a gloved hand latched onto his shoulder.  


Feliciano was yanked away from his grandfather. As he looked up, he caught sight of his brother, Lovino's usually suntanned skin pale and ashen. The older brother stared straight ahead, murky green eyes lost in another world but misty.  


"Lovino! Romeo! Grandpa!" His voice was shrill and made the audience wince; No matter how many reapings passed, a tributes screams never became easier to bear.  


Lovino finally snapped his head up. He stepped back into the crowd of people, frantically looking for his brother as Feliciano was painstakingly dragged to the stage. The older twin moved to raise his arm and run forward on trembling legs, but several hands held onto his arm and shoulders.  


He pushed them away and threw himself against Romulus, allowing himself one moment of weakness. He covered his ears hoping to drown Feliciano's wails, and drowned himself in the scent of olives and tomatoes and pasta.

Though Peacekeepers separated the two tributes, Ludwig had seen enough of Feliciano to recognize him. His brother knew the Vargas family, having craved their orchard grown fruits since before Ludwig could remember. Gilbert always insisted on buying more of their grapes and tomatoes than he could reasonably eat.  


Ludwig watched over his shoulder as they walked down hallways to separate rooms. Even at a distance he could see the Italians shoulders trembling. Ludwig couldn't quite tell if he was feeling pity upon hearing his cries, or second hand embarrassment from the scene he caused. Probably a mix of both.  


The white clad guards nudged Ludwig into a bland room (though, it didn't do much considering the Germans size). He sat by the window and waited, hoping they'd let his brother in. He knew nobody else would come.  
~~~~~~~~~  


The wood door burst open and slammed against the wall as Romulus rushed inside, instantly clinging to his still sobbing grandson. Just as quickly the man moved to hold Feliciano at arms length. Feliciano saw his brothers behind Romulus; Lovino's lip was trembling despite his furious glare and Romeo was looking away, covering his mouth.  


"Feli, Feli, my boy, listen to me. Ti amo, ti amo, Feli. Ti amiamo così tanto¹." Romulus was near tears while trying to wipe away Feliciano's own. Romano shoved his way to his brother's attention, his breath ragged. Romulus stepped back to wrap his arms and Romeo, who still couldn't bear to look at the tribute.  


"L-Lovi, Lovino, please don't let them take me away! Ti prego, non voglio morire²-" Lovino shook him roughly by his thin shoulders, earning a cry from their grandfather. 

"Taci, scemo!³" Feliciano clamped his mouth shut and grasped for his brother's wrist blindly through his crying.  


The older brother breathed out heavily. "You're going to be alright, do you hear me? I know you're weak and scared but listen up, si? Ho fiducia in te, Feliciano, ce la farai⁴. And besides," he laughed bitterly. "People like you, dumbass. It's a show, Feli. You can get them to like you, si?"  


Feliciano gaped slightly, but wiped his eyes and nodded rapidly. "Si, si, Lovi, I can." He leaned to the side to address the rest of his small family. "I'll do my best, grandpa, I promise I'll really try!"  


The door opened again, Peacekeepers reaching to drag the men out of the room. Romano thrashed and spit on their visors. It earned him an elbow to his gut, and he still fitfully tried reaching for Feliciano. The youngest brother escaped Romulus's grasp and to Feliciano.  


Feliciano tried grasping Romeo's hands, but the boy yanked his hands away and into his pocket. He pulled out a small white handkerchief and pressed it into Feliciano's shaking hands.  


Just as a Peacekeeper came to tear him away, Romeo clutched his brother in a tight hug. "*be strong, Feli." 

Then Feliciano was left alone, cheeks blotchy and wet. 

"I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Ti amiamo così tanto- We love ypu so much 
> 
> 2\. Ti prego, non voglio morire- Please, I don't want to due
> 
> 3\. Taci, scemo- Shut up, idiot 
> 
> 4\. ho fiducia in te, Feliciano, ce la farai
> 
> All the Italian and German translations are being done by my fluent friend seeing as I don't trust Google translate  
> Any feedback is appreciated, me n the boys have worked hard on this au 👉👈


	3. Chapter 3

Among Ludwig's clearest memories are the meals his family would eat. He remembered those nights as he stepped onto the sleek metro, a wall of rich scent pushing him back to when he was small, peering over the messy counter to watch wurst sizzle on their makeshift grill. 

Even after Gilbert came home to his brother with more money than either of them had ever seen, the brothers still used the rickety grill; Their food didn't taste the same unless their father made it, but it was close enough he supposed. 

Gilbert pats the chair he's leaning against when Ludwig meets his eye, a strained grin displaying his sharp teeth. Ludwig huffs and attempts a step forward. He doesn't get far though, before the previously trembling bundle of frightened Italian bursts to life and stumbles towards the long table.

A happy- bordering on frantic- laughter bubbles through the train cabin while Feliciano scoops a heaping portion of spaghetti onto his plate.  
"Ooh wow! They made pasta! This is amazing, vè, it smells just like Grandpa's! This couldn't be any better, unless of course I were at home, but-!" 

A glove hand clamped over Feliciano's rambling mouth, muffling the excitable babbles. 

Gilbert rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. "Mein Gott, he's loud," he chuckled before releasing the now calmed Feliciano. Gilbert sat and reached into a bejeweled chest in the center of the decorated table. He pulled out a bottle of beer, sliding it across the table towards a gaping Ludwig. 

"What? This… This is so-

"Expensive? Ja, it is, I had them prepare the best." He leaned over to whisper to Feliciano. "I threatened those dummköpfe I wouldn't come if they didn't make our favorites." Feliciano laughed again. 

Ludwig scoffed and poked at the bit of meat on his plate.

"I don't know if I should be grateful you're our mentor or afraid for my life." 

An offended huff had the tributes looking away from their meals. 

Gilbert had kicked his feet up on the table, picking at a thread that was loose on the finger of his glove. "You'll be grateful for it in the next few days. You," He pointed at his brother. "Have the awesome me to thank for your advantage." 

Both tributes looked at him curiously. As Gilbert spoke again, Feliciano reached his hand across the table to draw little shapes in the condensation building on Ludwig's bottle of beer. 

Running a hand through his silvery hair, Gilbert spoke. "You being my kleiner bruder, means you have a gimmick. Being related to a winner, especially a winner as awesome as me, makes you very, very interesting to those snobs," Prussia finished with a swig from his beer bottle. 

Feliciano tilted his head and banged the table with his open hand. "Gilbert! How many... uhm... hmm how do I say this- um..."

"Spit it out, ja? I don't got all day to give you two my awesome advice!" Prussia teased around the rim of his bottle. 

"How many people did you kill?" 

The brothers stopped mid drink, a stony silence settling over the table. Ludwig could see Gilbert's knuckles go white from the grip on the bottle. 

Feliciano flinched at the silence. "Ooh no! I'm very sorry, I didn't mean to upset you! I only asked wanted to know, b-because you see I nevee watched the games and I want to be prepared!" 

"Feliciano," Ludwig snapped, though the nervous babbling continued.

"I'm really sorry, don't be mad! You don't have to answet, honest, I didn't mean to upset you, Gilbert. I just didn't know, and you're our mentor now so you need to help us and-" 

"Five. He killed five." 

Feliciano clamped his mouth shut and turned to Ludwig. His brow furrowed in concern. "Did you watch the games?" 

Ludwig could feel is brother's stare as he replied with an honest yes. He had watched- not that anyone was there to stop him from doing so. 

Gilbert sighed. "I only know three of their names. Alexis, Hasina, Arman and Altan. The other one... I can't remember his name. I stabbed him the cornucopia over a bag." The albino's jaw clenched, his nails dragging into the mahogany table. 

At the thick silence, Gilbert continued lowly. "No matter how many plants you know, or careers you kill, or how quick you are to surrender, the important part of this death trap is to make those un-awesome capitol losers to like you." 

Ludwig bit his cheek to keep from speaking; a push for more advice would get him nowhere, if he knew his brother when he was upset. And Gilbert was upset. He could tell by the unsteady flicker of his eyes and bouncing of his leg. 

"Give them an awesome show, and the two of you stand a chance," then he scoffed and let out a boisterous laugh. "Not that any bruder of mine wouldn't be awesomely skilled enough to win these games!"

Looking over at the small Italian, as Feliciano swallowed thickly and visibly shook, he realized then that Feliciano wouldn't stand a chance. Roughly pushing his chair back, Ludwig dragged himself to his temporary, yet lavish room, the door slamming behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names Gilbert mentions here are a couple of the Ancients!
> 
> Alexis- Ancient Greece  
> Hasina- Ancient Egypt   
> Arman- Persia  
> Altan- Mongolia


End file.
